Jonathan Christopher
by TheElsianPrincess
Summary: Jace Wayland and Jonathan Morgenstern were raised by the same man...but one was raised as a hero, and one was raised as a monster. A simple, short one shot that looks into the lives of five year old Jace, and seven year old Jonathan. Open to continuation if desired.


_**The idea for this one shot has kind of been bouncing around in my head for a while now. It explores the differences between Jonathan and Jace growing up. If you want this to be continued, let me know! Otherwise, as always, read and enjoy my darlings!**_

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**April, 1996**

Five year old Jace Wayland galloped heroically (and comically) around the front lawn of the Wayland mansion, stabbing at invisible, ferocious, slobbering demons with his little wooden sword, and cursing the beasts with colorful and well-imagined curses. The morning sun reflecting off his light, feathery blond hair, which was beginning to darken, and his golden eyes were narrowed with fierce concentration and contempt for the monster he was about to slay.

"Come out and face me like a man, you dithering, foul beast!" He paused for a moment, tapping his finger on his chin in a mockery of careful thought. "Oh, wait, that's right. You _aren't _ a man." Jace stuck his sword back out to the beast, puffing up his chest so as to seem incredibly threatening. In his mind, the demon cowered away from him in fear—the way all demons he ran across seemed to do, for he was Jace Wayland, the greatest Shadowhunter the world—no, the _cosmos_—had ever known.

With the loud, high pitched cry of a pre-pubescent warrior, Jace leaped into the air and slashed the demon in half, watching with triumph as it sizzled into the grass.

The soft sound of clapping behind him snapped Jace out of his reverie. He whirled to see his father smiling at him, and Jace's heart swelled with pride. His father walked toward him and knelt down to his level. "Be careful of that downward swipe, son. If you don't cut quickly enough, the demon will take your slowness as an advantage."

Jace nodded solemnly and placed the toy sword in his father's outstretched hand. "What day is it today?"

His father glanced at him. "Now, why would you want to know that?"

Jace hesitated, the events of the previous Thursday burned into his mind. He was beginning to get used to them—the beatings—to reconcile them to his little mind. He'd begun to learn, over the past seven months, that biting his tongue helped him not to cry out, which was good. He couldn't, however, help flinching, which was not good. His father didn't want him showing any sign of pain. "I just wanted to know what I'm reading today."

"Latin," his father grunted, somewhat impatiently. "Thursday is always Latin."

Jace ducked his head as the servants opened the front doors of the manor. "Yes, Father."

"Are you ever going to ask me that question again, Jonathan?"

Jace shook his head, staring at the floor. "No, Father."

His father gripped Jace's chin and pulled it up. "Look at me when you speak, Jonathan. No one will take you seriously if you do not look them in the eye. Intimidate them."

Jace's gaze was level, much too serious for a five year old boy. "Yes, Father."

He went to the window seat of the library, dutifully immersing himself in a thick, dusty tome of Latin.

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"Father?"

"Yes, Jonathan?"

White haired Jonathan Morgenstern turned on the grass and looked up at his father, setting his wooden sword down. "Where is my mother?"

His father did not look at him. "She left."

Jonathan furrowed his brow, his small heart beating sadly inside his chest. Didn't his mother love him? "Why?"

"Because she could not stand you anymore. She couldn't stand to look at you, Jonathan. She screamed in terror when you were born."

Jonathan felt like he'd fallen on his toy sword by accident and it had pierced his chest. The seven lacerations on his back still burned, though they'd been healing for two weeks now, and he tried to shift so that his tshirt didn't rub against them. "But why?"

His father looked at him angrily. "Because you are a monster, Jonathan. No one can love you. No one will ever love you."

Jonathan blinked. "But…don't you love me?"

"I'm the only one who can ever love you. Don't forget that."

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_**Whoop! Short. That's okay. Jonathan's part was getting too painful. Do you WANT me to continue? If so, it won't be continued until after Everything and Nothing (which, if you haven't read, you should TOTALLY check out) is finished.**_

_**Review, lovelies!**_


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